


Waxing Gibbous

by Anonymous



Category: Satyr Universe (name subject to change)
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Breast Fucking, Come Inflation, Dubious Consent, Fauns & Satyrs, Growth, I tried to do a thing with his orb and the shape of the moon but it didn't really take, Lost Love, M/M, Restraints
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:59:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22582912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Something interesting happens to Ambryss for the second time in his life, and he finds himself in an unexpected situation.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6
Collections: Anonymous





	Waxing Gibbous

**Author's Note:**

> By Donnchadh (twitter.com/apotropaian)  
> with credit to Dylan (twitter.com/diicedd), creator of the Satyr Universe setting

Once, there was a satyr that loved to watch the night sky. He slept during the day, and at night he awoke to gaze at the stars. With his face turned ever-skyward, he gazed up at the multitude of lights pin-pricking the black tapestry of the heavens. And Ambryss of the Stars Saw them.

At the same time, he wound paths circuitous through his desert home, gnarled branch in hand, tracing his Designs into the abundant canvas of loose sand. Patterns, big and small, fractalline and random. Building to fantastical, cohesive wholes, or disparate medleys of ideas covering the landscape like graffiti. Embraced brackishly by the towering roots of the tree of eld, the horned desert was a blank late for Ambryss’s ambitions.

He Saw the stars. Did the stars See him, he wondered? He knew they _could_ , if they wanted, but did they _now_? _Would they_ , ever again? He hoped so. And if that should happen, he wanted to make sure that they would see his Designs, and Know him.

Every night he would wake at sunset and spend his evenings stargazing and etching pictures into the sand. Every morning, he would drift off to sleep as the sun rose, and the desert winds would clear his work away, washing the canvas clean, so he could do it all again. It was a simple, stable cycle, like a wheel, and Ambryss enjoyed the stability and familiarity it brought to him.

One night, for the second time in Ambryss’s young life, something unusual happened. He was working on a larger piece -- more complicated, more dense than his usual fare. The world was alight with the soft glow of a waxing half-moon, and Ambrys carefully drew out the lines and curves, shapes and sigils. He worked with the same precision as the even-ness by which the moon was split into perfect halves of light and shadow.

He looked upward all the while, taking in the inverted depths of the world beyond the world. He lumbered intrepidly across the cool ocean of sand, never faltering in his gait. He walked with a flitting, tottering motion, as if on the cusp of losing his balance, his long legs at risk of betraying him and letting him topple over. But when stone or branch would appear underhoof, he would be smoothly repositioned -- gracefully, _magically_. Like ripples from stones dropped into a calm pond, localized gravitational anomalies moved him upright, pulling on his torso, his outstretched limbs, or -- more often than not -- his Burden. The other wheel.

This was a night like any other, but for the remarkable moment when Ambryss noticed something: a particularly bright, twinkling star overhead. Ambryss knew all the stars in the sky, but this one… this was one with which he was unfamiliar. It hadn’t even been there a moment ago, he was sure, or at least he thought he was sure. He paused and pondered it, for a time. The star seemed to beckon to him, and the complex schemata mapped out in his head -- the Design -- evaporated in an instant, forgotten.

He began walking in the direction of the star, ensnared by his reverie.

For a long while, he followed it.

His halting stride slowly gave way to a gallop, though it was no less ungainly for his swiftness. He _pursued_ it.

He was dimly aware of his changing surroundings, but intent as he was, he paid them no mind. He was spellbound, bewitched by the twinkling light overhead.

“T̵̢͎̯̯͐̇̑̀̑͗̅̀̀̕ͅH̷̢̛̛͎̻͖͎̬̔̈̇̉̋̋̓̊̈́̕̚̕͝I̷̦̠̟̟̥̗̜̔͊̑̇͂̾͘͝S̶̭̬̪͕͎̜̙̯̼̜̯̦̹̅̈̆̂̑͌̌̒ ̸̧̫̝̘̺̭̰̖͙͚͇̯̟͔̉͑͒̇̾̋̆̑͝W̵̨̧͔̜͔̘̭̪͍̟͓͛A̸̧̙̦̝̲̻͚͍̺͗̍̚Y̸̛̫͇̰͓̺̗͖͎̺̬̮̟̺̟̜̋̆̀̐̏̎͌͛̆̍̽͠,”

it seemed to say to him, and he silently abided by its instruction.

Ever forward, gazing upward.

He stopped following the star when it vanished as abruptly as it had appeared. The sky had changed around it, and though the star had outlasted its heavenly brethren for some time, now only one star resided in the sky; it was morning, and light filled the air as the sun crested the horizon.

Though Ambryss could not _see_ the sun.

For the first time in a great while he took stock of his surroundings. They were lush. Green. There were trees. Many trees. All _around_ him were trees, though he seemed to have stopped in a clearing of sorts. The dense foliage was blocking the comforting view of the horizon, though it was also thankfully sparing his sensitive eyes the worst of the morning light.

Instinctively, Ambryss fell back into routine. The rising sun meant it was time for him to sleep, and he could think of no reason not to do so now. The clearing seemed like a nice place to rest -- an overgrown hollow, enclosed by trees and brush, with clover and assorted flowers asserting themselves in the absence of canopy overhead.

He carefully knelt down, resting his Burden on the ground and arranging his limbs as well as he could beneath him. Not truly _comfortable_ , but as comfortable as he’d accepted he’d ever likely be.

The turning of the sun was like a wheel. Ambryss drifted off as it rose, slept a dreamless sleep, and woke promptly with its setting.

As ever, the time of day came as naturally to him as consciousness itself. The level of ambient light and reflection, the angle with which shadows fell on the ground, the faint, cool breeze from the north. All these things and more whispered wordlessly to his senses and told him in resounding chorus: “It’s dusk. It’s time to awaken. The stars will be here soon.”

Ambryss fretted, though, as he tenderly unbent his limbs and lifted himself to his feet with deliberation. He was still hopelessly lost.

The stars would guide him home, of course -- they always did -- but the present environment hindered that plan; the tree cover obscured most of the sky, and it was cloudy besides. The blank expanse of the horned desert was waiting for him and his Designs, but the stars would _not_ wait. He had to hurry.

Resolving to find higher ground, or at least a larger clearing with a better view of the sky, Ambryss leaned on his magic as he delved into the trees. Ripples in an imaginary pond. Was his footfall slightly heavier _here_? Did his arm feel a little lighter _there_? Steadily, a map of the local topography assembled itself in his mind. He determined that the landscape was sloped ever-so-slightly, and began wandering in the direction of increasing elevation.

As the atmosphere blackened and the stars emerged, the half moon returned to its place in the sky, and its glow dappled gently through the leafy canopy. As wind stirred the leaves overhead, Ambryss used the fleeting, unfettered glances of the stars to orient himself, doing his best to follow both the rising grade of the land and the vague indicators of the direction to the horned desert. Only a fuller view of the night sky could provide him with the complete map he needed, but it was better than nothing, he reckoned.

Despite the predicament, Ambryss did not panic. As ever, his demeanor was veiled in an otherworldly calm. What thoughts he had swirled slowly through the cauldron of his mind.

He continued to meander about for some time, occasionally pausing and straining to see the sky, or to check with his magic that he was avoiding the worst of the forest’s hilly contours. More often than that though, he used his magic simply to keep himself balanced and upright. It was bad enough trying to navigate his Burden through the dense trees, but the underbrush and other refuse of the forest was almost another burden unto itself.

He missed the wide open planes of the horned desert, how freely he could move about there.

He missed the twinkling star, as well. It had been so captivating, so comforting.

He briefly wondered if he would see it again tonight, or See the stars, or see _anything_ of interest amidst these trees.

For the first time, it occurred to him that he’d seen no other _satyrs_ this night. Not many shared his total nocturnality, but it was still but a few hours past sunset, and satyrs of the forest tended to be fairly territorial...

A cloud passed over the moon, and the world darkened. A twig snapped somewhere behind him.

Ambryss heard someone clear their voice.

* * *

The satyr was above-average in height, and had strikingly blue fur. Desert-folk, it seemed. It was unusual for one to have wandered so far into the vivid forest, but the tell-tale signs were unmistakable. If not because of the strange dress -- two pieces of fabric tied around the hips with manacle bracelets on the wrists and calves -- then the mask was a dead giveaway. Satyrs from other lands rarely covered their faces.

Here was this strange desert satyr, alone in the vivid forest, and Phenax of the Barrens Saw him.

The strangest thing about him, of course, was the massive wheel around his neck. Worked metal was a somewhat of a rarity for desert satyrs, and it was extremely unusual to see something so elaborate and _large_. A thick metal ring encompassed the satyr’s neck, and from it emerged 12 spokes that held up the wheel’s circumference. The outside was decorated with sinister-looking spikes.

What was the _point_ of it? It was nearly as wide across as the satyr’s apparent arm-span, and it looked _heavy_ and _painful_ to wear. Not to mention how obviously difficult it was making it for him to traverse the local undergrowth. How had he even put it on? It didn’t look like it opened or came apart, it was just one solid piece of metalwork.

Despite the outrageous oddity, it had been something else about the bumbling satyr that grabbed Phanx’s attention. Like a boiling pot, he could sense powerful magic bubbling forth from the strange satyr’s person, waves of energy emanating outward like a perfume only he could smell. He wasn’t immediately sure what kind of effects it was manifesting, only that he had been using it a _lot_ in the last while, and whatever it was doing didn’t seem to be eminently dangerous.

Phenax could practically _taste_ the sweet mana of the little satyr’s life force, and he _wanted it_.

Phenax took a moment to size the satyr up again. He was somewhat tall, sure, but lean, and more wiry than muscular. Large enough that he could probably contend with a satyr of average build and strength -- if not for the hindrance of that wheel, and in any case, Phenax was no average satyr, especially not tonight. He’d had a busy day, with more than a few unfortunate “meals,” and his stature was _massive_ , to put it modestly. His thighs and biceps were bigger around than some of the surrounding trees.

This little satyr would make a fine treat.

A cloud passed over the moon and Phenax took a step closer, a small branch snapping beneath an enormous hoof. He cleared his voice.

“Hello,” he called out softly in a lilting voice.

The other satyr stopped.

As he drew nearer, Phenax peered into the sea-green orb hovering above his head, looking for identifying information. “You must be… Ambryss?” Something about this satyr seemed familiar. A half-forgotten rumour started to surface in Phenax’s mind, but he waved it off, focusing on what was in front of him.

Ambryss stopped as Phenax uttered his name, turned around, and spent a long moment taking in the larger satyr’s enormous frame. Without comment, he turned back around and continued moving.

“ _Of course. Desert satyr. He doesn’t fucking talk._ ”

Phenax moved to keep pace, which wasn’t a difficult feat. He was familiar enough with navigating the depths of the forest, and moved surprisingly deftly for someone who could have simply plowed through any obstacle. Ambryss didn’t seem to react to being followed, and a few moments later Phenax tried again.

“You seem lost, friend; do you need someone to show you the way?” He tried to evoke a dulcet tone to match his easy-going smile.

Ambryss stopped again, suddenly, and looked directly above him for a long moment. He looked back at Phenax for a comparatively brief second, then turned slightly leftward, and continued on his way. Phenax paused himself, to follow the direction of Ambryss’s gaze, but saw only the silhouettes of leaves and branches against sparkling shards of the night sky above.

“ _He’s definitely headed in the direction of the horned desert. Guess that trick won’t fly. What’s he thinking?”_

Desert satyrs were a frustrating bunch to deal with. No words, no communication at all except for the odd vocalization and body language, as unreliable as the latter usually was. It sure wasn’t helping here -- Ambryss seemed odd even by desert standards, and Phenax couldn’t divine anything about his thoughts or intentions. The faintly glowing orb above Ambryss’s seemed to twinkle slightly, as if the spiraling insignia within was teasing him.

“ _Fucking figures._ ”

Phenax sneered at the back of Ambryss’s head. He felt the shadowy aura around his own byzantium purple orb pulse slightly, tendrils flailing, as frustration roiled within him. Decorated with its own semi-circular glyph, he could feel the dark orb of light weaving uncomfortably through the air, emanating pangs of not-quite-hunger. As much as he’d “eaten” already today, the prospect of such a potent meal had whetted Phenax’s appetite, and he had no intention of letting this opportunity pass him by.

Phenax sprang forward and resumed pace with Ambryss in only a few bounds of his powerful legs.

“Haven’t you heard, friend? There’s a monster lurking in the vivid forest. We should travel together if you want to stay safe.”

Ambryss didn’t react in the slightest, slowly and deliberately making his way forward until he abruptly tripped over some unseen obstacle on the ground. His whole body jilted forward, and the wheel leaned precariously, but -- there! -- another burst of that _delicious_ magic, and the intrepid satyr teetered back to a standing position and proceeded step by step without missing a beat. He seemed utterly unflappable.

Phenax grimaced. This was getting nowhere.

Patience lost, he reached one of his long arms forward and firmly grasped the rim of the wheel where the spikes wouldn’t cut into his hand. Ambryss stopped in his tracks and looked back at him again - at least, as much as he was able to with his neck and head utterly immobilized.

“Didn’t you hear me? There’s a monster… and he’s already **_found_** you!”

He jerked sharply on the wheel to accentuate his words, and this, finally, seemed to get a reaction from Ambryss, who bleated pitifully in surprise.

Grabbing the spokes of the wheel, he started trying to wrest it from Phenax’s grasp, and once more Phenax sensed an influx of magic pouring forth with renewed vigor. The part of the wheel he was holding -- or maybe his hand? -- suddenly felt like it had doubled in weight, and that link between them sagged slightly toward the ground.

It didn't matter, of course. Phenax was too strong to be hindered by mere _weight_. He swung his other arm around to grab at another part of the wheel, and he hefted it, satyr and all, into the air.

Ambryss clung to the spokes and kicked his legs wildly as he was lifted from the ground. Phenax idly wondered if he would choke, held up like that, and decided he didn’t especially care. He looked around for a moment, spotting two opportune trees a small distance away, and carried the wheel over with Ambryss swung to and fro. Careful not to stick himself on the spikes, he lifted the contraption high above his head and slammed it down between the two trees.

Wryly amused at how Ambryss seemed unharmed, Phenax took in the scene before him. The wheel stood upright, nestled snugly between the two trees, the spikes on the circumference of the wheel were stuck fast into both their bark and the ground beneath. As if trapped in a spiderweb, Ambryss’s head poked out of the center of the wheel, with the rest of his body supported on his hands and knees. The wheel seemed stuck fast and -- despite his struggling and the echoes of magic Phenax felt in the air around them -- Ambryss seemed unable to free himself.

Phenax moved around the trees to view Ambryss from behind. Abandoning his persona of nicety, he spoke again.

“I’ve had a long day, I’ve chased down a lot of prey” he practically growled, the words reverberating through his chest, “and I think you’re going to be the perfect dessert to finish me off.”

He sat down behind Ambryss. Despite the struggling, his loincloths were easy to strip away, and Phenax paused to appreciate the view before roughly grabbing Ambryss’s legs and lifting him bodily into the air. Ambryss stopped writhing as he was grabbed and his hands frantically moved to grab at the spokes of the wheel for support -- between the wheel itself and Phenax’s vice-like grasp, Ambryss was suspended entirely in the air, face-down. His upper body took on a slight blush as his legs were raised above the level of his heart.

“ _I’ve got ways of getting what I want out of you_ ,” Phenax thought, grinning fiendishly.

He spread Ambryss’s legs slightly, and the incapacitated satyr’s member flopped out and away from his groin, flaccid with apprehension. Legs in each hand held aloft, Phenax shifted his position forward, and Ambryss began writhing again, for a new reason, as Phenax took the limp flesh into the inky blackness of his mouth and began to suckle it.

If Ambryss’s magic was like rocks in a pond, Phenax’s magic was like the roots of a great, upside-down tree, growing and stretching into the cracks and fissures of the aether. Insidiously, they spread throughout the immediate environment, enveloping and penetrating every living thing they could grasp, leeching up every bit of mana they touched. That mana made its way back through the roots and was used to nourish the trunk of the tree. A husk. Phenax’s body.

It was an absolute bastardization of the role satyrs were supposed to play in the natural order, and Phenax _lived_ for it, both metaphorically and literally.

He sent out these roots now; imaginary tendrils growing and prodding at the world around him, but especially at the warm body in front of him. They probed the metaphysical shell of Ambryss’s magical essence in much the same way as Phenax’s pointed tongue deftly probed at the hardening dick in his mouth.

He took his time as he worked body and soul in tandem. It really had been a long day for him, and the relative ease with which he had captured his current prey made him jovial - playful even. He hadn’t even needed to _pursue_ Ambryss, really.

Phenax flicked his tongue in and around the prepuce, slowly working around the circumference from the inside. As Ambryss got harder and the skin retracted, he lavished the exposed head with the flat of his tongue, and then decided to see how far he could stick it into the tip.

For his troubles, he finally heard Ambryss begin to make noise - no words, of course, but his breathing had grown loud and heavy, and there was the occasional staccato of suppressed moans. Ambryss continued to vainly struggle -- though his flailing was clearly for different reasons, now -- and a sheen of sweat was accumulating on the exposed skin of his back, shimmering in the moonlight.

“ _He seems to be enjoying himself_ ,” Phenax thought, “ _But not for much longer_.”

The roots of his magic had grown into a dense thicket around Ambryss’s ephemeral being. It was well-formed, as far as these things went, evidently devoid of any pits or scars the roots grab onto or could use to worm their way inside. Instead, they started to _squeeze_. Phenax was practiced at breaking his prizes open, and he would not be denied this delicacy.

If Ambryss could sense the spiritual violation, there was no outward indication of it. Before long, his cock had grown large enough that Phenax found he couldn’t comfortably fit its entire length in his cavernous mouth. Abandoning his earlier form and nuance, he angled his head further upward and adjusted his grip on Ambryss’s thighs. Straightening his neck, he began pumping the smaller satyr’s hindquarters up and down, plunging the engorged shaft in and out of his supine throat.

Ambryss shuddered. As opaque as he’d been not more than a few minutes prior, Phenax could understand him as well as if he’d spoken aloud. If the awkward angle of the inclined satyr’s neck and back bothered him at all, it was masked entirely by the obvious _neediness_ he expressed for what was coming.

Phenax’s roots wrapped around the shell of Ambryss’s magic constricted in their own way, squeezing tighter… and tighter… until, all at once, a threshold was surpassed, and a series of cracks appeared and wound their way across its surface.

At the same time, Phenax _squeezed_ him. With his enormous hands wrapped all the way around Ambryss’s thighs, he held the slender satyr in an iron grip and swallowed his cock down to its base. Balls smacked his upper lip and nose as the flesh speared into his neck and upper chest. Ambryss came at once, his entire body stiffening and straining as his shuddering redoubled. With his dick halfway down his throat, Phenax hardly needed to swallow, but he still vividly felt the warm fluid flow out of Ambryss and into his belly.

Phenax tensed with anticipation...

But that was _all_ he felt. Despite their efforts, the roots of his magic ran dry. Ambryss’s mana was still sealed up tightly - the shell had cracked, but it had not broken. Phenax’s ever-present smile faltered slightly.

“Ț̴̡̙̯̻̣̤̦̞̼̦͈̞̟͎̿͆͘͝ͅH̶̨̡͖͇̤̫͓̝̳̜̼̟̟̮̅I̶̡̳̰̫͉̼̳̭͐̎̅̈̾̊̇̍̚͜ͅS̶̢̧̻̗̼͔̙̮̯̣͙̥̪̬͛͂̋̈̚̚ͅ ̷͎̰̯̞͆Ī̸̠̭̽̋̊͠S̶̨̢̭͓͙̩͎̤͚̜͎̰̭̗̪̈́̑́̔͊͌̕ ̸̗̈́̈́̄Ń̶͎͐̿̔̿͠O̴̡̢̮̪͓̙͉̖͙͇̰̜̫͇̐̎̎̋̏̊̄̃̄̒̾̊͗͂͌̚͜͜T̵̨̞̮̙̤͎̔ ̶̛̼̰͎̫̜̳̱̻̩͔̱̮͕͕̣̟̔̏̉̊̉̈́̈̿̉̽̂̉̉̇͆Y̷̻̠͈̣̟̳͚̱̓̌̈̆̈́̅̑͋͆͆̏̋͝Ǒ̶̟͖̺̩̫̻̹̎̃̿̒̉̉̒͗̽̓͝U̸̘̝̿ͅR̸̨͌̐͐̊̃̋͝S̷̢͓̜͎̘̗̳̠̬͉̫͍̘͖̊̿͊͑̒͆̆̎̌̈́̈́̀̊̄͆̕͜.̶̛͙̮͓̤̖̰̬̠̳̰̠̹͌͂̓̉͑̅̿͒̈́͗̕̕ ̷̡͎̪̪̖͚̪̠̤͍̪̽͑̈̑̋̋̇̃̒̍̐Y̸̝̜̯̤̅Ô̸̙͍̭̬͔͍̮̟͙̖͆͛͛̃͠U̴̡̢̡̞͚̲̞͍͙̬̖̣̦̬̟͂̑͌͆̅̿̅͜ ̷̛͍̱̣̟̬̖͕́͑͑͆̿̽̏̐Ç̶̝̲͕̝̗̥̻͑͋̉Ä̵̢̘͙̦̥̺̻̙̞̠̪͕̖̝͔̳́̂̒̇͝͝͠Ň̶͙̆̓͊̉̏͠ͅṄ̸̛͖̦͉̺͚̫̞̼̬̙̀̔͗̚͜͝Ö̸͉̻̻̹̬̩͉͖̱̻̟̙̒̔̑̐̏ͅT̷̛̥͈̞̻̗̃͋̈̎̏̓̓̏͗̓̕̚ ̷̠̥͖͍̺̱̣̒̅̽͐́͝͝ͅͅT̸̫̲͕͉̮̜͕̪̺͍͉̭̠̤͊͊̔͝͝A̷̡̡̡̧̱̬̘̜̼̼̞̱͖̟͌̋̉͘͝Ǩ̷̡̞͌͝È̶̹̲̩͚̣͙̻̪̥̦́ ̴̢̧͔͎̮̬̰̮̯̹̟̣̜̪̻̣̒̓͒̈̋̉͛̈̈́͝Ī̸̢̧̡̡͓̱͉̳̖͍̪̬̞͍̺̊̃̇̈́̈́̓̆̅͝T̸̛̤̯̽͆͂̈́̆͋͑̏̔̓̐̏̾.”

...Was that a voice Phenax had heard? No, he was done feeling guilty. The world was his oyster now -- he took what he needed, and he took what he wanted, and nobody could stop him.

Ambryss had grown still, and now Phenax hefted his body, withdrawing his member -- now nearly a foot and a half long -- from its intense deepthroat. Phenax thought he saw a twinkling out of the corner of his eye, but he was distracted as Ambryss cringed at the apex of Phenax’s lift. Perhaps the oblique angle had proven too much for his little neck to handle? Phenax didn’t care.

“ _Maybe not such an easy catch after all_ ,” Phenax thought grumpily. “ _But in a way, you're my oyster too, little Ambryss, and I’ll break your shell one way or another.”_

His execution had been _perfect_ \-- satyrs’ constitutions were always weakest at the moment of release, and he’d timed the locus of his magical strength for that exact moment. Some satyrs held onto their mana better than others, however, and Ambryss seemed to fall in that category. Through the spokes of the wheel, the spiralling symbol within Ambryss’s orb seemed to wink at Phenax.

"Still hungry,'' he mumbled to himself, then more loudly, more gruffly, he shouted "You hear that, you little bitch? The monster is **still hungry**! Your little tricks won’t work forever!"

Phenax leaned forward and shifted the other satyr’s hindquarters, spreading his legs and placing each thigh on one of his massive shoulders. His arms were starting to feel tired ( _his_ arms! _Tired_!) from how he’d been holding his prey’s body aloft, and he was ready to take a new tack. Phenax was _frustrated_ , now, and he had _plans_ for this impertinent satyr who wouldn’t give him what he wanted.

He set his magic to work again. Tinier, thorny vines grew out from the imaginary thicket of roots, caressing the surface of Ambryss’s magical essence, pouring over the new series of hairline cracks on its surface, systematically exploring them for vulnerabilities. With his boosted efforts, the aura of Phenax’s orb flared and expanded, its descending to cover his head and shoulders like a cloak. As if they were roots themselves, shadowy tendrils periodically flicked out at the surroundings.

If Phenax was a more poetic sort, he might have found some dry amusement in the way that he acted in concert with his magic. With the smaller satyr’s legs balanced on his broad shoulders, and his head firmly entrenched in the loins between them, Phenax used his tongue to explore a different sort of crack. Roughly gripping the base of Ambryss’s tail one-handed, Phenax adroitly nuzzled his face into the crease of Ambryss’s pert backside, attacking with his mouth the tight ring of muscle he found within.

He ran his free hand over his chest, feeling the dense, wiry hair that covered it. He reached forward to grab Ambryss’s cock -- softer, but still at its full length -- and massaged it, his thick fingers clasping and stroking it until it was returned to satisfactory rigidity. Stretching his shoulders up and back, Phenax pulled the delicate flesh back toward his body and into the crevice formed by his enormous pectorals. Pressing the full length of it between them, he could imagine his chest muscles swallowing it up entirely as he began to flex and undulate them around the engorged member.

Ambryss hung limply between Phenax’s shoulders and the wheel trapped between the two trees. Any fight left had gone out of him, and he was as putty in Phenax’s hands. If not the feeling of furry thighs tightly squeezing around his ears and head, and the occasional low moan, Phenax could have believed he’d fallen unconscious after his earlier release.

Mentally, Phenax had to give the lanky satyr some credit.The life energy of most satyrs ebbed and flowed as easily as the intensity of their sexual desires -- it wasn’t even necessary to show them a good time to drain them to the dregs, though Phenax appreciated the formality of it. It was rare that he had to go to such lengths to draw a meal out of a hapless fool, and this desert satyr’s constitution almost _impressed_ Phenax. His magic was locked up so tightly that it was almost _unnatural_ …

If anything, that just made Phenax want it _more_.

His vines had begun to prick and breach the exterior of Ambryss’s spirit. Through the tips of the thorns, Phenax could begin to taste the well of mana within him, and it was _glorious_. The rate of siphoning was giving him even less than the surrounding plants were, not nearly _enough_ , but it sent a rush through his body all the same.

He redoubled his efforts, lashing at Ambryss’s balls with his tongue before puckering his lips and lancing it fully into Ambryss’s relaxed hole. His tongue was as long and thick as the rest of his physique was impressively large, and he snaked it in and out insistently, trying as much as possible to direct his exertions at that certain nodule of flesh a few inches inside the entrance. At the same time he persisted in flexing his powerful chest muscles, applying ever more pressure to the rod of flesh trapped in the hairy prison between them, encompassed entirely by the massive girth.

Despite Phenax’s firm grip on the other satyr’s tail, he felt Ambryss begin to move again, futilely attempting to buck his haunches back and forth as he got closer to the edge for a second time. Phenax sustained his ministrations until at last, Ambryss came again. Like a waterfall, hot, viscous fluid gushed out from between Phenax’s pecs, washing over him, coating his abs, and finding purchase in the fur around his thighs and groin.

Phenax probed with his roots once again, with gusto, and was frustrated, if not entirely surprised, to find that they still couldn’t find purchase on or within the secure shell of Ambryss’s soul.

Į̴̜̲̤̻̂͒͊̽͝F̷̢̧͕̭̞͇̬̹̫̣̠̦̫̰̮̍̅̓͒̆̑͒̂̿͘͠ ̶̨̪͔͍̳̲̺̫̝͈͎͆̿̂́̈́̄͊̃̉͒̆͘͜͝͝͝Y̴̨̨̟̰̣͖̺̭̩̺͍͕͕͖̟̅̈͑̐͋͐͋͌͗͒͜Ỏ̶̧̢̯̻͓̝̺̦͕̠̺̰̟̜̜̅Ů̵̝̹͛̋̽̋̐̾̍͆͛̅̽̽̚͝ ̸̛͓̜̻̘̭͍͈́̏̒̒̿̍͂͌͆͘͘̚͝Ẅ̵̛͓́̇̐̋͛͒Ḁ̵̢͎̹͍̟̞̟͓̜̝̤͈͚͊͋͒͆͂̔̆̐̓̈́̎̆̌̃͘͝N̸̡̙̗̑̈̊̔̐̚͝T̷͚͓̖̙͌͘ ̵̥̻̖̦̻̈̈́̈́̏̓͂͊̈̑̈́̕I̴̢̖͉͕̦̜̻͍̜͍̎̂̊̄̊͛͠Ţ̷̡̣̫͎̦̹͓̜̠̭͋̊̽̿̈́͑̃̓͋͛͊͘͝͝͝ ̵͍̠̜͐̓͗̈́͒͋͘̚͘͠Y̸̯̳̹̰̪͈͚̬͙͛̅̏͑͌O̸̡̞͔͊̔͗̐͐̐̔̓̿̽͌͝͝͝͠Ủ̷̡͚͔̤̙̼͉̾̋̀̿͐͝ ̴͎͂̇͠W̵̧͚̝͚̜̹̠̗̳͖͎͐͒̂̈̈́͂̍̈͋́̉͑̋͝͝I̵̛̪̙͚̫̰̒͆̎̈́̽̿̉͛͝͠L̵̛̬͉̼̤͎̺͚̈́͌̄̂̌̑̆͘͘̕͝L̶͈͔̙̙̭̖̙̜͒̉̄̎̃̑̑̆̈́̕͘ ̴̢͙̽͌W̴̧̢̛̫̠̻̘͇̯͎̺͙̾̈́͋̈́͂̀͐͑̔͌̔̚ͅỎ̴̢̹͉͖̞̜̳̞̀̌͌̎̓͑́̒͗̿̅͒̈́͠Ŗ̴͇̗̫̝͈̖͓̭͍͊͆̀̃̋̑̓͝K̸͓̭̻͓̬͙̳͐͑̍̓͋ ̸͎͔͑͘F̷̢̟̬͇̰͖̳̞̯̣̑͛̏̈̉̃̐̐̾͠O̷̲͎̳̰̮̜̺̫̠̦̠̠̟̊R̸̛̻̦̬̫̎̉͒̾̈́̇͒͌̑̒̍͆̕͘ͅ ̷̢̢̢̫̖͉̘̼̠̰͓͔̂̽̾̉̋͌̾͌̃̿Ǐ̷̡̮͔̤͑̋̔̈̽̑̓̆̚͝T̸̼͚̪͆

Phenax had definitely heard a voice that time, speaking to him from the back of his mind. Extricating himself from how he and Ambryss had been wrapped around one another, noticed that twinkling again out of the corner of his vision. Looking up, he could see a bright star shining down through a gap in the tree cover overhead.

“What kind of fucking game is this!?” he yelled.

He unceremoniously dropped Ambryss’s lower body to the ground, and grew furious as he felt a burst of gravitational magic -- “ _my magic, it belongs to me!_ ” -- soften his landing. Though he was stuck fast by the wheel, the smaller satyr gingerly curled up around himself. It was a pathetic sight, but it was clearly the most comfortable position he could manage, body arranged as it was.

As he looked about, Phenax nonchalantly noticed that the trees into which the wheel was pinned were blackening. He spared a glance around and saw that most of the plantlife surrounding them, in fact, was doing the same thing. At the same time as he’d been pursuing his prize, more roots had sprouted, spread, and dipped into the other wells of mana nearby. They fueled him, to an extent -- his exacting senses told him he was a little taller, his muscles a little firmer -- but it was never enough for him, subsisting on a purely vegetable diet. Phenax wanted _meat_. He wanted his _prize_.

Grabbing the edge of the wheel and leaning down, he felt his face twist and contort into a characteristically rictus smile. He growled, “I’m going to take what I want from you. One way or another. It’s _mine_.” Ambryss didn’t respond, as silent as ever, save for his deep, heaving breaths. He didn’t seem any more inclined to answer Phenax than he’d been earlier.

Phenax roughly grabbed his hips of the prostrate figure and yanked him back up to his hands and knees, giving his ass a resounding slap that echoed through the night. His own, neglected member, as if receiving a call to attention, started swelling. He helped it along, smearing it around in the ejaculate on his stomach and scooping up more with his hands to spread along its length. In short order, it had reached its full length of more than three feet, and he let it spring down and smack Ambryss’s lower back as he kneeled down behind him.

“ _I didn’t spend all that time eating you out for nothing--_!” he thought, maniacally. He positioned himself and started to push his way inside. Firmly, but agonizingly slowly.

Ambryss became animated again. Grabbing the spokes of the wheel, he instinctively hunched over and tried to pull himself away from the enormous rod impaling him, but with no gentleness Phenax yanked him back and pressed down _hard_ on the middle of his back until it formed a satisfactory arch and he felt the way forward ease slightly. No matter how Ambryss shifted and writhed, Phenax adamantly held him in place, simmering rage fueling his steely grip.

“You want me to work!?” Phenax hissed incoherently. Who was it that had spoken to him? He wasn’t sure, but anger drove him to respond nonetheless. The aura of his orb was more like a coat, now, an inky black mass that covered his back, arms, and even now spread to cover the ground around him like a pool of darkness.

“I’ve worked for everything I’ve ever fucking had! Ever since I was born, it’s been nothing but work!”

He set a brutal pace, thrusting deeper and deeper each time until he was fucking Ambryss with the full length of his gigantic tool. His heavy ballsack swung like a pendulum, beating a steady tempo against Ambryss’s thighs. The veil of his aura covered his entire body, now, and had begun to gradually envelop Ambryss’s body as well. A fragment of Phenax’s mind directed his imaginary magical roots to get to work as he continued to yell into the night.

“Work to make friends, work to tend to the gardens, work to please the king. Where did that ever get me? Where did that ever get _anyone_!?”

Ambryss shuddered beneath him and came. More chips and gaps in the magical facade, but the roots failed to push their way in, and it held firm. They switched to another strategy, wrapping the entire shell in multiple layers of thick, woody growths that squeezed and constricted like they had earlier.

“In this world if you want something you have to _take it_! With force! With trickery! With deception! It doesn’t matter! If you want it, and you can take it, then it’s _yours_!” Phenax was yelling now.

Ambryss came _again_ , moaning unabashedly, and more cracks appeared in the shell, little pieces separating from the body. Vines eked their way through the holes, grabbing the edges and prying them further apart, forcing openings where there had been none before.

“If all you do is work, you’ll never get what you _deserve_ , what you’re _owed_. And if you don’t work _right_ then you can lose everything you have! Everything can vanish in an instant, and then what’s the fucking point!?”

Phenax resolutely persisted in his assault of Ambryss’s ass, drawing his hips back and snapping them forward, again and again, without end. Roots wound around each other, forming twisted, wooden branches and logs, and they began _pounding_ at the cracks in the shell, trying to force their way through to get at the magic within. Phenax timed the brunt of his efforts with Ambryss’s orgasms, clawing them out of the poor satyr one after another. He _would_ take what he wanted.

“It’s all fucked! All of it! Nobody’s happy unless somebody’s miserable, and I know which side of things _I’d_ rather be on.”

Ambryss seemed insensate, but for the pitiful trembling every time Phenax wrung an equally-pitiful orgasm out of him again, and again, and again. Phenax, too, had lost sense of his surroundings, so single-minded was his focus on this single task. As if echoing the sentiment, Phenax’s obsidian aura encompassed the pair entirely, now, reducing the world to nothing but the frantic union of flesh in a sea of pitch. Anger coursed through Phenax, and he cried out with renewed passion as a whining sound on the periphery of his awareness filled his ears.

“But I’ll change it! They’ll all see how _fucking_ stupid it all is when I’m through with things! How’s that for work, huh!?”

“I̵̧̧̛̖̖̺̥̹̫̲͉̮̞̰̜͍̒̆̓̊̍͘ͅN̴̡̛̠̙̻̩̦̩̦̩̗̳͍̐͆̏̆̋̂̈́̔͘͝͠ͅȚ̵̘̅̑̅̆Ę̶̻̣̲̼̹̪̲̰̩̉̐͒̿̊Ř̷̢͓̟̩̼̺͓̭̦͓͇̘̖̉ͅE̵̢̼͓̰͎̜͌S̶͚͛̾Ṯ̸̡̥̭̱̝̠͈͚̑́̅͐ͅȊ̶͖̦̜̞̩͍̮̟̰͖͍̭͌͝͠Ņ̶͇̻͎̗͇̲̯͙͍͎̒͂͆̀͊̈́̂̈̓̒̚͝ͅͅG̴̢̛̯̤̬̬͍̺̬̲͖̥͔̗̅̈́̑̃.”

Ambryss came _yet again_ , and Phenax realized the persistent whining noise in his ears was the sound of Ambryss's fatigued keening. Not technically speech, but part of him was proud all the same that he’d driven a desert satyr so far beyond their standard decorum of silence. With that thought bolstering his willpower, he made one last assault with his draining magic.

Like brittle glass, the shell shattered, as much as it was able to wrapped up in the thick layers of woody plant growth. The magic immediately disseminated into its surroundings and was greedily sucked up by the roots positioned to capture it. Phenax felt energy flow into his body, as the powerful well of energy was absorbed into his flesh, into his _soul_ , and it nourished him. A familiar tightness suffused his skin, and alternating sensations of tingling and soreness rippled through the entirety of his body as mana churned within, and the surfeit of energy caused him to heal, to build, to _grow_.

Phenax _changed_.

He strained to hold onto Ambryss’s hips as his biceps bulged and pushed his arms away from his body. He adjusted his kneeling position, his thighs swelling and pushing one another apart. His posture shifted by degrees as his abs flexed and gripped his core in a stranglehold, and his overflowing traps pushed and pulled his neck to the tautness of a harp string. The dense covering of hair curling across his chest grew into a thick forest unto itself, his pecs heaving up and outward to the point that he could barely see Ambryss’s form on the ground before him. His bones and joints throbbed as they lagged behind, growing more slowly, struggling to support both the increase in weight and the redoubled stresses acting upon them.

He raised one arm and flexed it experimentally, the opposing forces of tension and bulky musculature singing out to him in a beautiful, dull ache.

 _This_ is what Phenax lived for.

His favorite muscle, of course, also grew larger by inches. As Ambryss's already-loose hole started to feel tight around Phenax’s expanding cock, he punched his hips forward with resounding strength, his gargantuan testicles swinging forward to hit the back of Ambryss’s thighs even as they tensed and drew close to his body. Through the haze of his pleasure, he felt a sense of completeness as his immediate surroundings became almost completely devoid of life energy, his body suffused with all the strength and might that the environment could offer him.

At last, every part of his body straining, Phenax came, an orgasm ripping through him like an earthquake. An explosive feeling of euphoria filled him, starting in his groin and building to spread throughout his entire body, even as his frame continued to fill out in every dimension.

Wracked with pleasure, he clung needily to Ambryss's body. His measured pace was ruined as he began fucking into the smaller satyr spasmodically, using his grip around his waist as a point of leverage to shakily move himself back and forth. Load after load pumped deep into Ambryss's belly in an uninterrupted river, even as it began to overflow and seep out around the edges of his titan-sized dick.

The sense of ecstacy spread steadily through his growing body, and he didn't stop his frenzied motions even as he felt it encompass his consciousness, his vision flickering out of focus as he briefly lost every mental faculty not related to _fucking_. As his humongous figure erratically bucked forward and back, he heard a telltale creaking sound fill the air before, with a sickening _crunch_ sounding out from somewhere below and beneath him, something gave way, and his next thrust carried him farther forward than he expected.

He paid it no mind -- he _couldn’t_. At that moment, Phenax was lost to this world -- and in that world beyond the world, there was a sort of clarity.

For a fraction of a second, he imagined a face in his mind's eye…

And forgot it again, when the moment passed.

* * *

Ambryss came to his senses slowly, in an unusual fashion, as if wandering out of a deep fog. As always, the time of day was immediately apparent to him. The stillness in the air. The lunar cycle, and the way shadows fell around the nearby trees. The nuance of the night air -- the way the miasma kissed his exposed skin. They all said: it’s just past midnight.

The second thing to occur to him, as he gradually came to, was that he wasn’t wearing his mask, though he could see from the corner of his eyes that it laid just a small distance away, on the ground. Sluggishly, ignoring an abrupt feeling of nausea, he reached a long arm over to grab at it and reflexively put it on, muscle memory guiding his fingers through the motions of securing the band and clasps around his head.

His other facilities were slower to return to him, including his memory. Where was he? How had he gotten here? What had happened? He had… followed a twinkling star in the sky… and ended up in the vivid forest… he’d slept… but he needed to return home… and he couldn’t see at first… but then… the monster… the _monster_...

The monster had _ravaged_ him.

Aches and pains in the edge of Ambryss’s awareness suddenly clarified, and all at once he became cognizant of the unfortunate state of his body. His neck was still cradled within his Burden, of course, as it ever was, as it always would be, but there was a sharp pain in his back just beneath the connection. Had he overextended his spine? Supporting himself on his knees he used the hand that had grabbed the mask to help steady himself with one of the spokes, not trusting his neck, and moved the other one back to explore the damage.

Nausea returned with the action, and he paused with his arm held still in midair. Every movement caused a sickening feeling of inertia in his midsection, and as he slowly reached down to investigate, it was easy to tell why. His stomach was utterly distended, the skin stretched tight around a comically large, round gut that stood in sharp contrast to the rest of his lithe frame and hung so far beneath the rest of his body that it nearly grazed the tamped earth below. Like a bloated balloon, it _sloshed_ from side to side as he moved, turgid but still soft in its fullness.

It was easy to guess what had filled him, as he continued to feel around. The fur on his legs, tail, and _especially_ his rear end was absolutely caked in a thick fluid that stuck to his hand. His asshole was sore, and its looseness surprised him as he gently probed it, and without effort it took nearly his entire hand. A thin trickle of the viscous fluid was flowing out of him and down the back of his ballsack, dripping down onto the forest floor.

He carefully navigated his hand down below his belly, where its girth pressed back against his dick. He gently grasped himself in his palm, but immediately let go as it _stung_. The sudden movement jostled his stomach, and he took a moment to swallow the nausea and compose himself before he tried feeling again, more cautiously. Though the skin was loose in its unaroused state, it felt as if his tool were covered in hundreds of tiny abrasions, like it had been ground on every side against coarse sand, or rough, unwashed wool.

He moved his hand back forward to act as a support, and pressed it down directly into something wet. Feeling around, he found that the entire area beneath his upper body had been subsumed by a puddle of liquid. The disturbance wafted the smell toward his face, confirming what he’d already known -- it was semen. _His_ semen, if the placement was a clue, though the raw volume of it was surprising. How many times had he been made to cum? Even if he’d had a mind to remember, he had a feeling he’d have lost count,overtaken by pleasure as he had been. The monster had been _relentless_ , but at least he'd been allowed to enjoy it.

More than anything else, though, Ambryss felt _tired_. It was like his whole body had recovered from a bout of paralysis, even moving his arm around to check himself over had spent so much more of his energy than it should have. His bones felt brittle, his muscles ached, and his skin felt lose. His Burden--

His Burden! In a flash of alacrity, the memory of the wheel being embedded between the trees flew to Ambryss’s mind. He was relieved, though, when he managed to angle his head to the side, to see that he had been freed -- the trees on either side had been splintered and the spikes released. The trees themselves and all the other plant life in a radius around him was blackened, withered, and seemed to be dead. The bottom of the wheel was firmly entrenched in the soil of the forest, and it was probably only for that saving grace that it hadn’t fallen over and taken him with it.

As he struggled to move his body, it idly occurred to Ambryss that his magic wasn’t being very responsive either. Reaching for it with a thought, it was as if the imaginary pond was shallower, the stones smaller. The ripples as they hit the water were negligible, almost too small to be seen -- the altered gravity almost imperceptible.

The profundity of fallen leaves suggested to him that he’d be able to see an unobscured view of the night sky, if only he were able to position his head to look upward. Ambryss wanted to look at the stars, to See them, but he felt _exhausted_.

For the second time in his life, Ambryss decided that certain events were simply out of his control. There was evidently nothing to be done now but rest and try to regain strength.Though it was the middle of his “day,” the soul-deep weariness he felt was such that he had little trouble imagining that he could fall asleep. Ambryss curled himself up into a sleeping position, as best as he could.

In the slivers of the night sky that he saw through his fixed point of view, he could make out the shape of the half moon, bathing the world in stygian light as it filtered down through thin, wispy clouds. Though he’d seen it only briefly, the semicircular shape looked similar to the monster’s orb, with its grinning D-shape. The moon had more of a curve to it, though; it was just a little fuller than the night before… What was the word for that? Ambryss’s enervated mind was slow to remember.

He thought about it as he began to drift off again. The half-moon had grown. It was bigger than before. Too big to be a half-moon...

Now it was waxing gibbous.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing fiction like this. I hope it didn't make you want to claw your eyes out!


End file.
